


A Jemmawill Ficlet Collection

by alessandralee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:30:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5150294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alessandralee/pseuds/alessandralee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of my shorter Jemma/Will pieces. As yet untitled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Faint

When she comes to, Will is gently lowering her to the ground. He’s being surprisingly delicate about it, considering the fact that her clothes can’t possibly get any dirtier than they already are.

“You fainted,” he informs her when she opens her eyes, “straight into my arms. You know, if wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

Jemma laughs, and says,” I wanted to see if there was any additional vegetation up here. I did not account for differences in air quality at this elevation, hence the loss of consciousness.”

“You could have just asked me,” Will tells her. “I promise you I’m giving you the very best that Hell has to offer. It’s just all crap.”

“So I see,” Jemma says, disappointed. Slowly and carefully, she rises into a sitting position, and then to her feet.

Will watches carefully as she heads back to lower ground, but he doesn’t try to steady her himself. She’s not sure if that’s because he’s still wary of her, or if he’s just not going to try and help without her asking.

She’s also not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.

“So how was your day?” she tries to make small talk. It’s been at least a few hours since she last saw him.

“Well first I foraged for food,” he tells her. “Then I sat around doubting your existence for a few minutes. And then I tracked you down to make sure you hadn’t accidentally killed yourself.”

“So more of the usual, then?” she teases. He doesn’t sound upset.

He shrugs, “It’s better than what I was doing before you got here.”


	2. I'm Here

He doesn’t have nightmares the first night.

Maybe it’s just that, after fourteen years with every cell in his body on the edge, he’s too bone deep exhausted to dream. Maybe it’s the euphoria of reaching a home he’d mostly given up on. Maybe it’s just a coincidence.

He sleeps for nearly an entire day without stirring before his full bladder trumps his weariness and he practically has to sprint for the bathroom.

His second night isn’t so easy.

He wakes up after only a couple hours, thanks to a dream of being chased across the rocky surface of the planet, only to trip and fall down some never ending hole.

He turns on the lights, splashes some water on his face, then crawls back under the covers.

He reminds himself that he spent fourteen years in Hell. He can handle a few dreams.

Perhaps his mind takes that as a challenge.

When she finally returns for him, Will is overjoyed. He doesn’t want to admit that he’s been holding out hope, but he has.

Jemma guide him towards the portal, and he can hear that familiar Scottish accent calling to them both from the other side.

He turns to look at Jemma, but she’s gone. In her space in Death, in that same space suit Will once wore. The same space suit the first of his teammates died in, run through with spikes.

He doesn’t wake up screaming, mostly because he can barely take in enough air to breathe.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” a soothing voice tells him.

The residual fear from the dream makes him recoil from Jemma, but she doesn’t seem to hold it against him.

“Hey, I’m with you,” she tells him softly as he relaxes into her arms. “Always. You’re safe now.”

He wonders how many times they’ll have to do this. He never gave much thought to how much of that planet would follow him home.

At least he has someone else who understands.


	3. Crack a Smile

“I would do some pretty terrible things for a hot chocolate right now,” Jemma admits on a particularly cold day.

Will shrugs, “Only if it’s spiked.”

“I’d even settle for one of those powdered monstrosities,” she says.

Will looks at her with amusement.

“Doesn’t everyone just make those powdered monstrosities?”

His English accent pretty terrible, and for a moment it reminds her of Skye’s and she feels even more homesick than usual.

She banishes the thought.

“Oh you poor thing,” she teases. “Of course you’d be more concerned with alcohol if you’d never had a creamy cup of dark chocolate shavings melted over creamy milk. It was the perfect treat after a day spent playing in the snow.”

Will rolls his eyes, “Let me guess, you used home made marshmallows, too.”

Jemma shakes her head, “Not until I went through my cooking phase at the academy. Raspberry marshmallows are delicious. The lavender ones, not so much.”

“Only in England would they eat flowers,” Will tells her.

Jemma looks at him smugly, “I’ll have you know I learned that recipe from an American professor at the American Academy in America.”

She doesn’t attempt an American accent to go alone with it. That would ruin the high ground she’s standing on.

“I stand corrected,” he admits. “Although I still don’t see the appeal of flavored marshmallows. What could possible be better than plain old marshmallow flavoring.”

“When we get home, I’ll prove it to you,” she says, “even if I have to force it down your throat.”

Will grins, “I’d like to see you try.”

Jemma gasps, “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

Immediately, Will’s normal scowl returns, “Any alternate universe would be better than this.”

Jemma’s disappointed that he closed up without sharing much about himself, but at least they’re making some progress. Baby steps, she’ll get to him eventually.


	4. "What do you want to watch?"

“What do you want to watch?” Jemma asks, setting a large bowl of popcorn into the gap between them on the couch.

Will thinks for a moment.

“What’s still on?” he asks.

And then he bursts into laughter. The situation is absurd. Fourteen years stranded in space and Jemma just sits him in front of a (freakishly thing, but not as strange as Jemma’s tiny phone) TV and asks what he wants to watch.

He didn’t even watch TV much before he got sent to space.

Jemma eyes him warily, like she’s afraid he’s getting hysterical.

Will takes a moment to compose himself.

“Survivor?” Jemma eventually suggests.

It takes him a moment to place it. It’s the one where they stranded real life human beings on a deserted island.

Talk about art imitating life. They probably had plenty more amenities than he did.

And a way out at the end of it all.

“That show lasted?” he asks. “Why would anyone watch that?”

He can’t imagine a world where some shitty reality show last fourteen years. He hopes that’s not a trend.

Jemma shrugs, “You Americans aren’t exactly known for your great taste.”

If it wasn’t for her teasing smile, or the fact that she’s the only familiar thing in his life right now, Will would take offense at that comment.

“You know what?” he says. “Why don’t you just turn on the news and I’ll sit here in awe of your flat screens and whatever other new technology you’ve got. I’ll have to catch up at some point, right?”

Jemma shakes her head adamantly.

“You’re not ready for 2015 news,” she tells him.

She looks nervous. “An uneasy feeling builds in Will’s stomach.”

How much as the world gone to Hell while he’s been gone?

Jemma’s mentioned advance weaponry before. Military strikes. A war on terror. Unmanned drones.

If she thinks that’s too much, too soon, maybe he should heed her advisc.

“Saturday morning cartoons?” he suggests.

At least he should be able to follow what’s going on in those. And he’s pretty curious about Netflix. If Jemma’s precious Netflix can get him Saturday morning cartoons on a Thursday evening, then it will have lived up to the way she talks about it.

Jemma visibly relaxes. Cartoons are a safe area.

Hopefully football is too. If the rules of the game have changed, he might not be able to handle it.


End file.
